Honor and Glory: A Nord's Tale
by Jinn Khaar
Summary: The story of a young Nord coming to claim his place in his ancestor's home of Skyrim. A narration of my journey through the land of Skyrim, and my encounters with the ones who call it home.
1. Chapter 1

This story is contains exact lines from the opening cutscene of Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, so it will contain spoilers. I claim no money from Skyrim, and all rights for this belong to Bethesda. So please don't sue me. Thanks you for reading this, and I hope you enjoy my story. Criticism of any type is appreciated (Especially involving grammar. i don't really get it, despite speaking English all my life.).

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><p>I feel the darkness spinning around me. My mind reaches out, grasping for something, anything to hold onto. A flash and images appear, burning themselves into my mind. Mountains and rivers, caves and dungeons. A burning fire and a large beast roaring as it soars over my head, flying through the air. Then all retreats back into the darkness<p>

With a jerk, the world comes back into view. I am on a wooden cart being pulled down an unfamiliar road. Moving my head, I see an even more unfamiliar sight. Mountains, ice, and snow, everywhere I look.

_That's odd, The only place in Cyrodil that has mountains like this are up near the border to Skyrim._

Suddenly, the memories come flashing back to me. The stories told to me by my father, of his grandfather's homeland. A land of glory and honor, one that is beautiful yet bestial, my leaving of my home in the Imperial City, where I had spent all my life before this. I remember my attempt to cross the border, only to get caught up in an Imperial ambush, where it seemed as though a man was shouting words that made no sense, yet were straggly familiar. Then, I remember nothing but blackness and pain.

I look around, at the landscape around me. The pine trees tower over me, and the mountains tower over them. The frosty wind bites at my skin, sucking some of the little warmth I have in this frozen land away_. This land is majestic. I wonder why grandfather left this land. _

Shaking my head to clear the fog that had formed in it, I shift my body, hoping to move myself to a more comfortable position. My movement catches the eye of a fellow prisoner. "Hey, you, you're awake," he says, relief evident in his voice.

I look over my companion. A Nord, like me, he has long blonde hair, and a strong face. He wears armor, a common sight amongst the people here, chainmail, covered in blue cloak. Hearing me say nothing, he asks another question, "You were trying to cross the border, weren't you? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief."

As if hearing his label had activated him, the thief snaps at the Nord, nervousness and fear evident in his voice. "Damn you Stormcloaks, Skyrim was nice until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."

The mention of Stormcloaks and the Empire throws my mind into a whirl. I knew who the Empire was, having grown up in their seat of power, the Imperial City, under the shadow of the Ayleid architecture of White-Gold Tower. But these Stormcloaks, who were they? From the way the thief had talked about them, this group had only recently come into this land. _Who were they, and what did they want_?

The thief continues to talk, as I listen on, only partially interested in what he has to say.

"I could have stolen that horse, and been halfway to Hammerfell by now." Turning his attention to me, thief starts to talk to me.

"You there, you and me shouldn't be here. It's Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

As I ready myself to explain what had happened to me, the Nord across from me choses the moment to speak up. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief."

"Shut up back there," The guard guiding the cart says over his shoulder. Seems he finally heard us speaking. Looking over at the thief, I see him staring at the fourth person in our cart. A man, dressed in elegant clothes, and with a strip of cloth ties over his mouth so that he cannot speak.

"What's wrong with him, huh?" the thief mutters, mainly to himself.

"Hold your tongue!" The Nord says forcefully, enraged at this treatment of the last prisoner. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak! The true High King!"

"Ulfric? Ulfric of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion! If they've captured you then… Oh Gods!" The thief exclaims in surprise, with panic evident in his voice. "Where are they taking us?"

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits."

"No, this can't be happening! This isn't happening!"

"Face the life you have chosen, and deal with your fate before the Nine Divines," I say to the thief, my throat hurting as each word comes out.

Staring at me in surprise, the thief says, as if in disbelief, "You worship Talos, though it has been banned throughout the Empire! Oh, stuck in a cart headed to my death, with a group of traitors and Talos worshippers! I am going to dies! Why does this have to happen to me?"

I turn my face away from him in disgust as he starts to cry, sobs wracking his body, though no sound comes out.

"Hey, what village are you from, Horse-thief?" The Nord asks, trying to comfort the crying man.

"Why do you care?" the thief spits out venomously.

"Just a Nord's last thoughts should be home."

"Rorikstead, I'm from Rorikstead," the thief says reluctantly.

A voice sounds out from ahead. "General Talius sir! The hedgemen is waiting!"

"Good, let's get this over with," a voice from the cart ahead calls back. Turning my head, I see a town ahead of us. Stone walls, a guard post at the gate, this town seems to be well fortified from any bandit or beast attacks. Turning my head to the Nord, I ask him, "What town is this?"

"This is the town of Helgen. It is a base for those blasted Imperials and the dogs who lick their feet," he replies, the hatred obvious in his voice.

The thief starts to talk under his breath, praying to all the gods to rescue him from this fate.

"The gods will not help you," I say to him softly. "You must earn honor and glory in battle to gain their respect. Only then will they help you."

The thief turns to look at me, a puzzled look on his face. "You aren't from here are you?"

"No, I have come to my father's father's homeland to claim honor for myself and my family, as a true Nord should."

A look of pity settles over the thief's face. "You still have a lot to learn. Don't let yourself get blinded by those you don't suspect kid," he says, resigned.

"Wait, thief, before we die, let me ask, what is your name?"

"I am Lokir, son of Fulstan"

"Well then, Lokir, let us go to our deaths with a brave heart, and a smile upon our face, as we go to face the Nine Divines, and we will see that those Thalmor really are wrong."

A silence falls over the group of us as the cart travels through the wall and into the town itself. We see a group of men on horseback, conversing with one another. The Nord across from me mutters to himself about the men. From what I can hear, he hates all of them, though why, I do not know. Taking a look over at the men, I see a sight that makes my blood boil. A Thalmor Justicar. Seeing that brings back memories of my parent's death, but I suppress them. I will see them soon, and this is no time to focus on revenge. But I cannot help but scowl at them, thinking of the most painful ways I could kill them in my current situation.

As the cart turns, and the elves go out of vision, I realize that the Nord across from me was talking. I start to listen, hoping to gain some more information about what sort of situation we are in.

"I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Velod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in. Funny, when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." He says, as if talking to stop himself from thinking about what will happen to us soon. _Stop, don't think like that. You will only end up doing something foolish._

The cart pulls to a halt as I hear a harsh femine voice cry out, "Get these prisoners out of the cart!"

"Why are we stopping?" Lokir asks, his voice shaking from fear.

"Why do you think? End of the line." The Nord across from me spits out remorsefully.

"Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us," the Nord says, turning to face me.

"No, wait, we aren't rebels!" Lokir yells.

"Face your death with some courage, thief," says the Nord.

"You've got to tell them we aren't with you! That this is a mistake!"

Silence is the only response. In the silence, I prepare myself to meet the Nine Divines, and to be reunited with my family. _If only I could have seen more of my homeland. And that I had died with glory._

"Step toward the block, when we call your name," the same harsh voice yells at us. People scurry about, trying to complete the orders as soon as she gives them.

"Empire loves their damn lists," The Nord says, as he gets down from the cart and moves to take a place beside me. And I feel as though I have to agree with his statement. Back when I lived in the Imperial City, I felt as if there were lists to take care of lists. The bureaucracy that has evolved since the Oblivion Crisis almost 200 years ago is staggering.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," the clerk calls out.

"It has been an honor Jarl Ulfric," the Nord beside me says as the Jarl walks toward the Imperial soldiers that have come close to escort him to who knows where.

"Ralof of Riverwood," the clerk says as Ulfric is escorted past him.

The Nord beside me walks toward the clerk, pride and fear in his stride.

"Lokir of Rorikstead"

"No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this to me!" Lokir cries, as he bolts off, trying to escape what the Fates have set in stone.

"Archers!" the harsh voice yells to some soldiers.

A soldier nearby pulls an arrow out of his quiver, and in a fluid motion, draws his bow back and releases the arrow. The arrow flies straight into Lokir's back, piercing his heart, and the thief falls where he stands.

I am left alone, standing in front of the clerk, who looks at me.

"Wait, you aren't on the list. Who are you?"

"I am Jonin, son of Thoran. I hail from the Imperial City," I reply, hoping the fear doesn't show in my voice.

"You picked a bad time to come back to Skyrim, kinsman. Captain, he isn't on the list, what should we do?"

"I don't care that he isn't on the list. Send him to the block," the captain snarls.

Turning to me, the clerk motions me forward, muttering to me, "I'm sorry. But, at least you'll die here. In your homeland." Resuming his normal voice, the clerk says, "Follow the captain prisoner."

The captain turns away from the clerk and marches toward a large stone tower. I reluctantly follow, casting a glance at Lokir's dead body as I pass it. "Peace be with you my friend. I hope Talos takes mercy on your soul," I say to his dead body. I wish I could do more, but I cannot. At least, not while a prisoner of the Imperial Legion. Taking my place in the line of prisoners, I turn to my right and see the Ralof, the Nord who sat across from me on the cart ride to this place. Hearing voices start to talk, I turn my attention back to in front of me. An Imperial, dressed in fine golden armor, addresses the gagged man who was with us in the cart.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgan call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne!"

_He murdered the High King? Why would he do such a thing, especially when the Empire is falling apart? I thought that this place was supposed to be a stable province, not plunged into chaos and civil war, like Hammerfell was about a century ago. But a larger question remains. Which side is in the right in this case? I have seen the Empire ban the worship of Talos, ally themselves with the Thalmor, and they did ambush me, and I am waiting for my death to come at their hands._

The man in the golden armor continues to talk to Ulfric. "It was you who plunged this land into civil war and chaos! Now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!"

As he finishes this statement, a loud road is heard through the valley. _This roar, it sounds so familiar. Like I've heard it somewhere before. But no animal in Cyrodil makes a noise like that. So what is it?_

The roar sends the men into a slight panic, as they all glance nervously up at the sky. They twist their necks back and forth, in an attempt to see what beast made the noise. Fear seeps into one soldier's voice, as he asks the question we were all wondering, "What was that?"

"It's nothing. Carry on," the man in the armor says.

The men begin to carry out their duties once again, but with tenseness evident in their actions, jumping at every sound they hear. The harsh voiced woman turns to the priest located near the executioner. "Give them their last rites," she orders.

The priest starts to talk, and I tune her out. _What good are last rites? If you haven't made your peace with the Nine Divines, then to do so now is too late._ It seems as though one of the Nords that was in another cart agrees with me. Shaking off the hands of his captors, he calms strides toward the block. "For the love of Talos, shut up, and let's get this over with," he says, resigned to what is going to happen to him.

The priest stops midsentence, obviously mad that someone had interrupted her blessing. Stepping away, she lets the prisoner kneel at the block in front of the executioner. The harsh voiced woman plants her foot into his back, and roughly shoves him face first onto the block. At the last moment, the Nord lets out a line that burns in my memory.

"My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperial. Can you say the same?"

With a wet thwack, the executioner's axe separates the Nord's head from his body. The head rolls away from the axe, and into a waiting basket. I see the Nords eye's, and how they are still filled with the hatred and vengeance that he was feeling when his spirit departed for Sovngarde. From somewhere behind me, I hear a women scream, "You Imperial bastards!"

This scream is matched by another yell, "Death to the Stormcloaks!"

"Know that Talos smiles upon you this day," I say to the body, my head bent in respect.

"As fearless in death as he was in life," I hear Ralof murmur beside me.

"Next, the Nord in the rags!" the woman yells.

The same roar as before fills the air. The soldiers stop everything that they are doing to look for something, anything that they can place the blame for that unnerving sound on. And, once again, I feel a sense of familiarity at the sound. But, it's not like a sense of familiarity that you get when you are close to home. No, it is a familiarity that fills you with dread. I move the little bit that I can, searching for what made that roar.

"There it is again, did you hear that?" the clerk that took my name down asks.

"I said, next prisoner!" the woman barks.

"To the block, prisoner. Nice and easy," the clerk says as he faces me.

_Funny, I thought I would have died in the riots back home. Or maybe being attacked by bandits. But being killed by Imperial soldiers in Skyrim. I never would have guess that._

I march toward the block, each step a step closer to the gods. I feel a pressure on my shoulder, forcing me to drop to my knees. Then, another pressure, much harder this time, presses on my back. I turn my head to stop from slamming my nose onto the hard wood, and fine myself staring right at the executioner, his axe ready to separate my head from the rest of my body. A motion from behind the man draws my attention. A large, flying beast. One that I had never seen before, letting out the same roar that had been heard previously. _What was this thing?_

The beast turns, and dives down at the fort. It lands forcefully on the top of a tower, knocking parts of the tower to the over, and shaking the ground around us. I finally get a full look at the creature that had landed. What I saw was impossible, part of my mind told me. These had been extinct for at least an Age. But, what I saw before me proved that thought wrong. I saw a dragon leering down at me. My mind suddenly remembered the visions that had passed through my head before. The creature I had seen in my vision was a dragon.


	2. Chapter 2

**This story contains exact lines from the opening cutscene of Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, so it will contain spoilers. I claim no money from Skyrim, and all rights for this belong to Bethesda. So please don't sue me. Thanks you for reading this, and I hope you enjoy my story. Criticism of any type is appreciated (Especially involving grammar. I don't really get it, despite speaking English all my life.).**

**Sorry for this being late-ish. I got distracted by the holiday's and such. But, I hope to start updating on a regular basis, but I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon. Once again, thank you for reading this, and I hope you enjoy.**

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><p>The dragon roars down at me, blurring my vision. At the same time, as storm seems to swirl around him, almost as if he had called the storm clouds himself. Flames began falling from the sky as the dragon lifts off, attacking the village. Hearing a voice call to me, I turn to look in that direction.<p>

I see Ralof motioning me to follow him. It seems as though, in the confusion, he had escaped his bonds. _But where can we go that is safe? A dragon can destroy almost anything. But, I guess anywhere is better than here._

I stumble after Ralof, shuffling as fast as I can with these bonds on. We head for a tower where the rest of the Stormcloaks have moved into. I run in, and Ralof slams the door behind me. He turns to a man and asks, "Jarl Ulfric, what is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages," the man replies.

"We need to move now!" one man cries out.

"Up through the tower!" Ralof shouts as he pushes me up the stairs.

As we reach the middle part of the tower, I see that some stones had fallen, blocking the path up the rest of the tower. A Nord runs past me, and starts grabbing at the rocks, trying to move them. I start to go help him, but a feeling stops me. _This feels off, like that time that Ulgosh jumped out from behind that corner and attempt to stab me._

The wall in front of me burst in, the stones crushing the Nord that had rushed ahead. The dragon looks in toward me, and we stare face to face. Something deep inside me takes over, and causes me to let out a yell at the creature.

The beast looks at me, surprised, and pulls back slightly from the hole. Opening his mouth, he releases a bout of flames into the air, burning everything in its path, and singing things near it. The smell of charred flesh and roasting hair fills the air from the fire that has set in the Nord's dead body. With that complete, the dragon takes off, swooping to attack another part of the town.

I move to look out of the hole the dragon had made. I see the town set aflame, and the vision I had before is again brought up in my mind. _What does this all mean? Am I going crazy? Am I even alive?_

"Over there! We can jump down into the inn!" he yells, pointing down at the ruined inn.

_This is crazy, how am I ever going to make a jump like that? Wait, no, stop panicking. You are Nord. You can do this, and live to tell the tale._

I back away from the hole, preparing to do a stunt that could quite possibly result in my death. Taking a deep breath, I run toward the edge. Felling my foot on the edge, I push with all my strength, hoping to make it unscathed. I fly through the air, and I see the top floor of the inn rushing up to meet me. Bracing myself for impact, I slam into the floor, cracking the wood beneath my feet. I turn to help the other's make the jump, but the dragon seems to have noticed my escape from that hole. He flies over and loses a blast of fire, burning everything nearby. I duck down, narrowly escaping the blast. Over the roar, I hear Ralof call out, "You go on! We'll join you as soon as we can!"

_Fare well my brother Nord. Let us meet in Sovngarde if anything should happen._

Turning around, I run across the top floor of the inn, trying to remain as far out of sight as I can. AS I come to the far end of the floor, I see a hole where the stairs used to be. _That's my only way down. Well, here goes nothing. _

I drop down the hole, scraping my arm on the splintered wood in the process. I creep out of the inn, watching for the dragon to come from any direction. Outside the inn, there is an open space where a few people have taken a stand. The one leading them is the clerk that showed sympathy toward me, he orders people to get into a more defensive position. Suddenly, the dragon lands right in front of them. Panic seizes them, and the group bolts away, just in time to avoid a stream of fire emerging from the dragon's mouth. Taking cover from the heat, the clerk sees me.

"Still alive prisoner? Stay close to me if you want to stay that way."

Turning to the man beside him, the clerk says, "Gunnar, take the boy. I have to go find General Tullius and join the defense."

"Gods guide you, Hadvar"

Hadvar begins to run down the ruined streets of the town, and I follow him, keeping an eye on the sky for the beast. While running down the street, I see the town closer than I had before. The building are crumbling as they burn, crashing down upon one another in a bout of smoke and flames. Sparks fly everywhere, singeing my skin when they land on me. My eyes water from the smell of burning flesh.

Hadvar sprints off down one of the roads still left mostly untouched by the falling buildings. Seeing no choice, I follow him, praying to the gods that I survive this encounter.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar calls back to me. I can hear soldiers screaming in the background, trying to organize a defense from the monster. I huddle close to the wall, the stone radiating the heat it had absorbed from the fires.

With a crash, a massive wing lands in front of me. Seems as though the dragon had found us. I steel myself, but the blast of engulfing fire never comes. With a roar, the dragon lets off a blast of fire in another direction, consuming an unlucky soldier who was in its path. A blast of wind almost knocks me to the ground as the dragon lifts off, going to find its next target.

Hadvar seizes the moment of escape, calling out for me to follow him as he runs up some wooden stairs, which creaked under his feet. I scramble up next to him, finding him kneeling over the body of the burned soldier. With a sigh, Hadvar closes the man's eyes, murmuring something I could not hear. Then, we start through the ruined buildings, taking cover from the dragon as it swoops overhead.

We come out of the building to an open courtyard, where several soldiers and villages had formed an armed resistance to the beast attacking their town. Hurling insults and rocks at it, the mob seemed to shrink in fear as the dragon soared overhead, roaring down at them. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hadvar leave the group and move down another street.

_I could follow him. He seems to know what he's doing. But I need to help these people; this is a dragon, by Talos! But, if I stay to help, I am almost guaranteed death. Following Hadvar it is. _

I slip away from the group. They don't notice as the dragon takes up all their attention. As I catch up to him, Hadvar seems to notice my presence.

"It's you and me, prisoner. Stay close."

"Like I have a choice," I respond, earning a dry chuckle from the clerk.

Coming to another courtyard, I see Ralof ahead. It seems as though he has liberated a sword, and is moving toward an exit. Hadvar yells at the Nord ahead, "What do you think you are doing?"

Turning to face the Imperial, Ralof responds, a sound of derision in his voice. "We're escaping Hadvar. You can't stop us this time!"

"Fine, I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!" the clerk cries out, panic starting to show in his voice.

Hadvar runs away, heading toward a door leading into the keep. Ralof runs another way, heading into a building that survived the blast. I stand there, unsure of what to do.

_Hadvar's helped me get through the town, while the dragon attacked. But he didn't do it for me; he did it to save his own skin. Ralof tried to help me, and he only stopped because of the dragon. But he's a criminal. No better than the ones that attacked Angrod back home._

Making up my mind, I head toward Ralof, praying to Talos that I had made the right choice.

Pushing me in the door, Ralof barely gets the door closed barely in time, the hints of fire licking the edges of the door as he settles closed. Turning around, I see we are in a large circular stone room, with doors leading out of tow sides of the room. Animal heads mount the wall, trophies for the soldiers who lived here. Across the room, a Nord dressed similarly to Ralof lies on the floor. Seeing this, Ralof rushes over, crouching down to check on the figure's pulse. With a sigh, he releases the body, as it slumps back to the floor, he speaks, "We will meet again in Sovngarde, my brother."

Pushing himself up from the floor, Ralof turns to me. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it."

"Wait, shouldn't we wait for a bit more? That town was a warzone, who know how many people were delayed!"

"Ulfric said that those who got separated from him during his escape should meet here. Gunjar here was supposed to be the last one to join us. No one else is coming."

"But there are others! We could help them!"

"Brother, you may be strong, but you have a bad case of what people in my Hold call Pogaas Ahkrin ."

A shudder runs through my body as the words ring in my ears, as if they are something that I should recognize. "What does that mean?" I ask hesitantly, not sure if I want to know the answer.

"The exact translation is lost, but it means that you don't understand sacrifice. That your life is worth more than others if you can help more by staying alive."

"And you use that as justification for leaving those people out there?"

"Truthfully, yes. I do. I can do more good for Skyrim than any of those people can."

Turning, I spit back at him, "I may not be as good as you for the land, but at least I'm not a murderer."

_Now, that isn't true is it? You killed them before you came up here. You killed them in cold blood._

_Shut up. That was different._

_Now, is that true?_

With a shudder, I force the traitorous thoughts to the back of my mind as I scan the room for a way out. The two doors appear to be the only way out.

As if to break the silence that had fallen between us, Ralaf starts to speak. "That thing was a dragon. No doubt. Just like the children's stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times."

"Then we need to leave. Now!"

"We better get moving. Come here; let me see if I can get those binding off."

I move over to him as he pulls out a knife from his belt. With a quick movement, he cuts the ropes binding my hands together. The ropes fall to the floor as I rub my hands together, trying to increase the blood flowing through them. The dragon roars from above us, the building shaking as dirt fall from the walls.

"Might as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needing it anymore," Ralof says, sadness in his voice.

Nodding my head, I bend down to start taking the gear from the body. Pulling off his chainmail, I see an iron war axe tucked underneath his body. Smiling to myself, I take it, weighing it in my hands as I stand.

_Just like the one I used back in the Imperial Arena. Shaped a bit differently, but I can use it._

"Alright, get that armor on, and give that axe a few swings," Ralof says as he moves to check one of the doors that lead out of this room. I switch the axe to my right hand, and twirl it a few times. Judging it to be satisfactory, I shake my body to settle the new chainmail onto my body.

"It's locked, let's see about that gate," Ralof says, turning to move to the opposite side of the room.

"Damn, no way to open this from our side."

"Are you saying that we're stuck here? Because the only way out is being terrorized by a dragon, in case you haven't noticed."

Seeing something through the gate, Ralof moves to the wall. "It's the Imperial's. Take cover."

Hear this, I move to the opposite side of the door from Ralof, preparing myself for a fight. My hear races. My blood pulses and time seems to slow down.

Apparently, we hadn't hid quickly enough. The Imperial Captain, the one that had ordered for us to be killed earlier, cried out and drew her sword. The guards with her did likewise.

_They have better weapons, probably more training, and want to kill us. We are definitely going to die. This is the second time today that I've thought that._

The bars swing open and the Imperials charge into the room. My axe swings out, knocking into the soldier's side. With a grunt, he swings his weapon at my arm. Jumping back, I barely miss the sword swung at me, and I lunge at him. My axe slams into his sword, sparks flying up at us. I push against him, driving him back across the stone floor. With a stumble, the soldier falls backward, crashing to the floor with a loud crash. My opponent down, I swing to face the Imperial Captain fighting Ralof. Seeing herself outnumbered, she snarls at me, backing up a bit. With a shout, Ralof charges her. Distracted by my appearance, she is unable to defend herself from Ralof's sudden attack, and his axe smashes into her face with a wet thud. She slips to the ground, blood pooling around her now motionless body. The tension in my body leaves me, when I suddenly feel a lightning pain across my back. Spinning, I see the guard I had knocked down before scowling at me, blood dripping down his blade. My blood on his blade. Enraged, I swing my axe at him. He brings his sword up in an attempt to block, but I crash through it, slamming my axe deep into his neck. With a gurgle, his eyes roll back, and he collapses.

_I killed them. It's not like the Arena, where they were expecting it. They had no idea they might die when they woke up this morning. Did I do the right thing?_

"Maybe one of the Imperials had the key. You should check them," Ralof says, shaking me out of my stupor.

I move to the guard I had just killed and I begin to search his body. Finding no keys, I move to the Imperial Captain who had ordered me killed. I pull away her steel armor, covered in blood, a mixture of Ralof and hers. Seeing a thin chain around her neck, I pull it away from her cold body, finding an iron key hung on it. I hand it to Ralof, who heads to the other side of the room. The door unlocks with a clank and a piercing squeal cause me to wince as the iron bars screech against the stone floor.

"That's it! Come on, let's get out of here before that dragon brings the whole tower down on top of us," Ralof cries. Looking back at the dead bodies, we head down into the underground passageways beneath Helgen.


End file.
